


And For A Long Time You Wouldn't Feel Anything

by thesleepingsatellite



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: F/F, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me-Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesleepingsatellite/pseuds/thesleepingsatellite
Summary: Donna and Laura have been drifting apart for years.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [montparnasse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/montparnasse/gifts).



> Set the morning after Donna tailed Laura to the Roadhouse in [Fire Walk With Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ti-tEBw1Cwg). Slightly alternate canon wherein Leland didn't arrive to pick Laura up from Donna's house. Some ideas and dialog taken from [the script](http://www.lynchnet.com/fwwm/fwwmscript.html) and [Laura Palmer's Secret Diary](http://www.glastonberrygrove.net/texts/lpdiary.html).

"Just take her upstairs," Laura says, once inside the Hayward's house. She points in the general direction of the stairs and then watches Jacques carry Donna bridal-style up the stairs. Donna is completely passed out, her head tipped back over Jacques’ arm, exposing the pale column of her throat.

Laura follows, thankful that Donna's family was out of town, having travelled to Seattle. It would have been impossible to explain Donna’s inebriated condition to them. Laura is certain that someone drugged Donna’s drink at the roadhouse. Doc Hayward would have taken one look at Donna and known she had been out drinking and partying, and Donna would be placed under curfew for the foreseeable future. 

Donna under house arrest wouldn’t be a bad thing, Laura thinks. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about Donna following her to the Roadhouse. She should have known better to allow Donna to tag along. Donna’s life is perfect and wholesome. She has caring parents, annoying little sisters, a stereotypical jock boyfriend. Donna, innocent and naïve, is everything that Laura pretends to be. Laura knows she herself is corrupt, and she has worked hard to keep make sure she does not taint Donna in any way. And so she’s had to push Donna away. She can see Donna's desperate need to grow up, to keep up with her best friend who is moving ever further away from her. It breaks her heart as much as it makes Laura love Donna all the more.

She should never have let Donna follow her tonight.

Once in Donna’s bedroom, Jacques lays Donna down on her coverlet, and turns to Laura. He surprises Laura by being gentle with Donna, and Laura wonders if he understands just how much Laura needs Donna to be okay.

"She'll be all right," he says. "She's probably have one hell of a hangover in the morning, but I know you know how to deal with those."

"Yeah," Laura says, grabbing Jacques arm to lead him from the room. "Sure do."

"Hey," Jacques says, as they walk down the stairs. "Since I'm here, do you wanna get down and dirty on the couch-"

"No-" Laura, interrupts. She takes his arm and steers him toward the door. Not in Donna's house, never in Donna's house. "I let you come here to help get her home, that's it."

He grimaces. "Well, fuck you, too."

"You, wish," she sing-songs. Then she bites her lip, and looks at him, contrite. Pissing Jacques off would be a bad idea, and so she and offers him a bone. She leans up, and presses her body against his as she kisses him, wet and dirty. "Later this week," she says, nipping at his bottom lip before withdrawing. "I'll bring Ronette, you bring Leo." 

She gives him an exaggerated wink and then closes the door behind him before turning to lean against it. She closes her eyes and exhales a heavy breath before heading up the stairs to check on Donna.

Donna is lying on her side, drooling into her pillow. Laura tilts her head and examines her in the dim light that filters in through her window. The shirt she'd worn to the Roadhouse is buttoned unevenly, exposing the smooth, creamy skin of her breast. An image the man Donna was with mouthing his way up her neck comes to mind, and Laura turns away to exit the room. She closes the door, angry at herself for allowing that asshole to touch Donna. Donna is clean, where Laura is dirty and used, and Laura wants Donna to stay that way. She should have sent Donna right back home again when Donna had appeared at the Roadhouse, looking nervous as a cat and determined as a bull all at the same time. Donna was so desperate for Laura's approval, and to be included in Laura’s life.

Laura can't say that she blames Donna. She misses their friendship, too.

She goes to the bathroom and turns the shower on before stripping the black dress and tights from her body. She turns the water as hot as she can stand it, and scrubs her skin until it is pink, washing the grime of the Roadhouse from her hair, the pores of her skin, from between her legs. 

When she's done, she pulls a white night-gown from Donna's drawer. Putting it on, she lays down on Donna's bed and attempts to sleep. Still half-drunk and keyed up from the cocaine, sleep eludes her, and she tosses and turns most of the night.

* * *

She's half-asleep when Donna stirs beside her, burrowing her head into the pillow to hide from the morning sunlight with a groan. 

"Laura-" she says, her voice a raspy croak. Laura turns toward her and sees Donna peering out at her from behind the dark curls strewn over her face. She frowns. "My head hurts."

Laura pushes Donna's hair off her face, cupping the side of her head as Donna blinks blearily at her. Donna still looks wrecked, her eyes reddened and puffy. She smiles at Donna and then rolls off the bed. "I'll get you some water," she says, quickly moving to the door.

She returns to the room with water and painkillers. Donna has burrowed her head under the blankets – one eye peers balefully out from underneath them, watching Laura as she sits down on the bed. Laura puts a hand on her shoulder. "Here," she says. "Take these."

Donna raises an eyebrow, but sits up, and dutifully downs the pills, chasing them with a long, thirsty gulps of water. "Ugh," she says, handing the glass back to Laura before flopping down on the bed once more. "I feel like something died in my mouth."

 _That'll teach you to follow me,_ , Laura thinks, saying instead, "Why don't you go back to sleep for a while?"

"I don't know if I can sleep anymore," Donna says. "Head hurts too much."

"How 'bout a shower?"

Donna nods. "Okay," she says. She's compliant as Laura hauls her out of bed and toward the washroom. Laura pushes her inside, and turns the shower on, taking care to adjust it to a comfortable temperature. "You gonna undress me, too?" 

"You wish," Laura says, as she turns to exit. "Now, get in the shower and get clean."

With Donna safely ensconced behind the shower curtain, Laura wanders into Donna's room, and opens the closet. She can't put her clothes from last night back on. They're filthy. They smell of smoke, of the beer that was spilt on her, and she's pretty sure there's a stain from when she'd given Buck a handjob on the dance floor. 

Donna's closet is full of sweaters and long, conservative skirts. Laura sorts through them, thinking that the demure blouse that Donna wore to the Roadhouse last night was possibly the most risqué item that Donna owns. She chooses a sweater and a pair of jeans, then goes downstairs to make breakfast.

A pot of coffee is brewing and two bowls of cereal waiting on the table by the time Donna appears in the kitchen.

“You made breakfast,” Donna says. 

“Yeah.”

Donna eyes the bowls with suspicion. “I’m not sure I feel like eating just yet.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay,” Laura replies, following Donna as she sits on the sofa. “Just take it easy. Hangovers are the absolute worst.”

Donna curls up on one end of the sofa, wrapping a blanket around herself as Laura sits down beside her. 

“I can't remember anything about last night,” Donna says, her voice small. “Is there something I should remember?”

A wave of relief floods through Laura. The less Donna remembers, the better. “No” she says. “You should forget about last night.”

“How'd I get in my house?” Donna asks, perplexed. “How'd I get in my bed?"

“Life is full of mysteries, Donna,” Laura says.

Donna draws her eyebrows together. “Were you mad at me for wearing something of yours?”

Laura tenses. She and Donna used to share clothes all the time. Hell, she’s wearing Donna’s clothes right now. 

“I don't want you to wear my stuff. All my things have me in them, I don't want you to be like me.” Of course, there’s more to it than that. Laura wants to keep the darkness that taints her existence as far away from Donna as possible. But how can she explain to Donna that Laura is cursed? That she’s haunted by a malevolent spirit who wants to claim Laura for his own? 

The silence between them lasts several minutes before Donna breaks it. “Laura talk to me, I’m your friend.”

“I know you are,” Laura says, looking up at Donna and attempting to smile. “And you don't have to do anything crazy to prove it.”

“I do love you, Laura,” Donna says. She puts her hand to her mouth, and Laura knows she’s about to break down in tears. 

“I love you, Donna,” Laura says, moving to gather Donna into her arms. Donna buries her face in Laura’s neck and cries, her breath coming in hot pants against Laura’s skin. She holds Donna close and whispers, “But I don't want you to be like me.”

Donna moves back just far enough for Laura to see her tear-stained face. “Why do you do it?”

Laura can’t tell Donna the real answer. That she fucks everybody and anybody she can, for money, for the drugs that keep the fear at bay, for the fun of it. She can’t tell Donna about the darkness that exists in her core, or about Bob, who pushes her to increasingly depraved and profane acts. Bob, who wants to possess Laura’s body and her soul, who wants to _be_ Laura, so he can experience the world through Laura’s flesh.

Instead of speaking, Laura brushes Donna’s hair back from her face and kisses her. It is a soft, gentle touch of her lips to Donna’s – innocent, really – and it makes Donna’s breath catches in her throat. 

Laura moves back, gauging Donna’s reaction. Donna’s eyebrows are drawn together, but she’s stopped crying. Her eyes are searching Laura’s face, flitting from Laura’s eyes to her mouth and back again.

“Laura,” Donna says in a hushed voice. 

“Hush,” Laura says, pressing another kiss to Donna’s lips. Donna inhales through her nose, and nuzzles inward, her lips parting under Laura’s gentle pressure. Laura smiles, and wraps her arms around Donna, drawing her close as she kisses her. Donna makes a soft sound and returns Laura’s kisses with love and tenderness, and Laura thinks that she has never been kissed like this before. Not by Bobby, not even by James, who loves her dearly. These are kisses borne upon a lifetime of familiarity and a longing for intimacy eroded by the tumult of their teenaged years. 

Laura loves Donna and this is why she breaks away. For Laura, sex is about violence and control. Sex is something that Bob does to her in a myriad of horrific manners. Sex is something she in turn does to other people to manipulate them. Sex is something she does to forget about the horror her life has become. Sex has tainted her, and she will not allow herself to taint Donna through her touch.

She scrubs her hand across her mouth, and smiles at Donna, looking up at her apologetically.

“I better go,” she says. 

Donna frowns and looks as though she’s on the verge of tears again. “Oh.”

“Donna,” Laura says, tucking a strand of Donna’s hair behind her ear. “I’ll always love you, you know that, right?”

Donna sniffles, and nods. “I know.” 

“Best friends forever?” 

Donna manages a watery smile. “Best friends forever.”

Laura leans in, and presses a kiss to Donna’s cheek before she stands.

“Don’t forget to eat breakfast, okay?”

“Yes, mom,” Donna says.

“You better. Call me later?” Laura says, gathering her bundle of dark clothes from last night and putting on her shoes.

“Sure, what do you want me to call you?”

“Call me anything, just don’t call me late for dinner,” Laura says with a wink.

Donna giggles. “Silly goose,” she says.

“Bye, Donna,” Laura says. With a wink and a swirl of blonde hair she’s out the door. Little does she know she’ll never return to the Hayward’s house, and that this will be the last honest conversation she has with her friend. However, the sanctity of Donna’s friendship remains with her after death, its effects lingering in the world beyond this one.


End file.
